What no one else knows about Ms Virginia Potts
by 4persephone
Summary: Drabblefic. Sweetness and light. Why the Stark Estate is currently under a third floor reconstruction...


**_She is even more prone to work-obsession that a certain super hero…._**

He came up into the living room after waking up on the couch in the basement. He didn't remember the actually lying down there last night, though it's not the first time that's happened. He did remember Pepper bringing down a bowl of soup and a plate of sandwiches sometime around five pm, and the couch where she'd sat still smelled like her perfume even after she'd made her way back upstairs.

His latest set of revisions on Suit Mach III had been going fairly well, and he expected to be able to make the next test flights on the altered stabilizers sometimes tomorrow afternoon. As it was he had an hour – or perhaps maybe half that – to shower and shave, before he crashed for a few hours. Pepper would today at 0500 on the dot, and disbelieving or not, she'd be getting his help with the paperwork for the better part of the day.

He was carrying the clipboard of memos to be reviewed and signed. He'd also called and personally ordered her favorite spinach and cheese omelet for the local diner. Yes, three hundred dollars was an exorbitant amount to offer the place to deliver, but it would be worth it to see her get a break from fat free bagels and whole grain cereal.

He was redubbing this 'be nice to your assistant day.' It was that or watch her drive them both into a state of near insanity while she did the work of sixteen people. Pepper hadn't complained about it (miraculously), but the phone had been endlessly wringing ever since the press conference. Yesterday he'd checked the server at 1900, 1378 new emails had still been unread on her personal server. He'd begun to wonder if he needed to hire his PA a PA of her own: not that she'd ever tolerate as much as the suggestion of that.

The living room was dim…but there was a light in one corner by the back of the southward facing couch. He raised an eyebrow and wondered why Jarvis hadn't cycled it off as he typically did every midnight if the upper level was abandoned.

Before he could inquire however, he managed to trip over a familiar looking shoe. His hands came up to brace his on the edge of the cushions as he all but face-planted on the left arm of the couch. After the initial shock wore out he became aware of the warmth of breath against his chest bone. Pepper was lying almost directly between his wide spread arms, propped against the end of the couch by the window.

She had a laptop that had powered off still perched on the cushion in front of her, and the fact that she didn't even stir spoke of how deeply she was sleeping. "Pepper?" The word was spoken at half volume. His PA didn't stir or reply – didn't even open her eyes.

Her breathing was methodical and her hair - which had been up in a bun all day yesterday - had escaped in curly wisps that curled to frame and caress the lines of her profile. She had removed most of her makeup sometime in the evening, and he could count the path of freckles across her nose…

He shifted his weight carefully and sank down to sit on the floor directly in front of her, studying her intently as he did so.

"Jarvis?" This time the word was spoken at a full whisper. He didn't ask anything more. Instead he just gestured to the couch, and expected the AI to figure out what it was he was asking. Jarvis chimed softly, before turning on the television across from them. He typed out his reply across the large plasma screen.

"She fell asleep about an hour and a half ago Sir, I though it best to give her at least two solid hours before attempting to wake her. The last week has been exhausting and she's been burning the midnight oil quite late…"

Ninety minutes of sleep? That wasn't midnight oil, that was light until daybreak.

She'd lost the battle with consciousness at 0230. She'd been at the mansion yesterday at 0445, and at 0430 the day before. He took in the shadows that played across her too-weary face and wondered if it was time to start offering Pepper Potts extra bonuses for every hour she actually devoted to sleep.

He reached out to remove the laptop that was in front of her, only to see the screen light up at the touch of his hand, and resolve into a familiar screen. His personal mailbox header was looking back at him: as of 0217 there were 327 unread messages listed there at the top.

He shook his head in astonishment – so much for his promise to help her. At this point he was better off investing in a supply of tasteless sedatives and a new box of her favorite kind of coffee.

He bent forward to brush a single strand of hair back from where it had fallen to caress the line of her face, and then slid one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees so he could lift her from the couch. She had commented once that she preferred the view from the back of the house to the rooms overlooking the Cliffside landscape. "Jarvis find me a contractor who can duplicate Ms. Potts apartment exactly…we're going to redecorate our third floor east wing."

His PA was going to throw a fit when she found out, but he figured that he could handle that outcome by now. She shifted till her head lay fully against his chest, and he smiled at the way she nuzzled a little against his shirt.

If nothing else he could just start threatening to tuck her into his bed whenever she threw these impromptu workaholic sleepovers of hers. That should effectively do the trick.


End file.
